Our Downfalls
by snowy scarf
Summary: A collection of ficlets about my favorite Les Mis characters. I promise they'll connect at some point. Basically every ship in here is one-sided. Teen just in case things get heavy.
1. Chapter 1

Grantaire sits alone, at a table reserved for Les Amis' resident drunkard. Occasionally others join him, eager to strike up a conversation about politics or history. Two things that Grantaire has no interest in. Nor is he interested in the revolution. He is a cynic and he knows that even with someone as wonderful as Enjolras leading the rebels, nothing will ever change. Even if they did somehow overthrow the government, those who live in poverty would still lead the same miserable lives. Take his friend Eponine Thenardier for example. She was born into a family of thieves and beggars and con men with no pride or conscience. She's hardly clinging to the scraps of dignity she has left. She goes days without food or drink and has not a penny to her name. A new government wouldn't change her life; she was too far gone into a pit of despair before she was thirteen years old.

Despite his negative outlook on life and his lack of faith in the cause, Grantaire still attends every meeting of Les Amis de l'Abc. Because it gives him the opportunity to see his Apollo. Enjolras is the only thing that makes Grantaire want to keep living.

He looks up from his bottle as Eponine sits next to him. The cafe is rowdy with tipsy students, making it easy for a young woman to sneak in unnoticed. Wearing men's clothes helps too. Eponine takes off her hat and lets her dark tangled hair fall over her shoulders and neck. She sighs deeply and leans her elbow on the wooden tabletop, chin in hand. Her gaze is fixed on Marius Pontmercy, a handsome young law student who is the object of her unrequited devotion.

"Why do you love him?" Grantaire asks, the usual annoyance tinting his tone.

"I could ask you the same" retorts Eponine, nodding her head towards Enjolras.

"Touché"

Grantaire raises his bottle to her before taking a long swig. He resurfaces and wipes his mouth on the backside of his hand.

"If you tell me about your day I'll let you see my drawings" he says.

He makes the same offer each day that he's filled another page in his sketchbook. Eponine nods. She loves art and jumps at the opportunity to gaze upon it.

"Nothing unusual" she begins "Did a few jobs with the gang, same as always"

Grantaire knows that by jobs she means robberies

"And I had a snog with 'Parnasse" she sighs dejectedly.

"You ought to stay away from the likes of him, 'Ponine" Grantaire reminds her for the hundredth time "One of these days he's going to really hurt you"

"I know" Eponine says softly, still staring at Marius "I suppose it's just me hoping that I can stop thinking of Monsieur Marius..."

"I know" Grantaire says before taking another swallow of wine. He's done the same sort of thing, tried to fall in love with someone else. But for him there is only his Apollo, Enjolras and no one else.

"Go on then. I held out my end of the bargain, now show me a masterpiece" Eponine reminds him, nudging his arm with her elbow. She smiles her crooked, broken smile.

Grantaire thinks Eponine is beautiful. He doesn't have romantic feeling for her; she could be his sister. As much as he loathes to admit it, he cares about her alot. He just doesn't see how people can over look someone as wonderful as Eponine Thenardier. And of course that fool Marius never gives her a second look.

He opens up a scuffed leather notebook and slides it across the table to her. On the page is today's sketch, done with a bit of charcoal.

"More Greeks?" Eponine comments, studying a drawing of the Greek god, Apollo, who happens to look alot like Enjolras.

Grantaire nods stiffly, the bottle still at his lips.

"I like it, 'Taire" Eponine says sincerely "They're lovely, all of them"

She flips a page and sees a sketch of herself. She looks beautifully melancholy, with a bittersweet smile. The only thing unrealistic about the picture is the way her hair looks soft and free of knots. The real Eponine smiles softly.

"You drew me too pretty"

"I'm a realist" Grantaire says "I draw things as I see them"

They fall silent for a moment. Grantaire stands, pulls a few francs from his pocket, and exchanges them for his sketchbook.

"Get yourself a meal" he tells her.

She doesn't object and takes the money gratefully. Before he leaves, Grantaire looks at the young gamin.

"Stay safe tonight, Eponine"

And with that, the nearly drunk cynic staggers off into the rainy Paris night.


	2. Someday

Rain pours from the midnight sky and Gavroche dashes for cover under a bridge. He shivers and shakes the rain droplets from his dirty blonde curls as he pulls his thin wet jacket tighter around his slight frame. Hunger makes his gut clench. He sits down in the mud by the riverbank and pulls his knees in close to his chest. Eponine ought to be here by now. She said she'd come at nightfall with food. As if on cue, Eponine appeares under the arch of the bridge. In her arms is a loaf of bread that she bought, not stole, with Grantaire's money.

"Ponine!" Gavroche cries happily, bombarding his older sisiter with a hug.

"Hey 'Vroche" she says, pressing a kiss to his dirty yellow curls "How have you been?"

"Surviving" he shrugs with a wiry grin.

They sit down with their backs against the stone wall and Eponine sighs as she stretches her sore legs.

"Here, eat" Eponine tells him, breaking the loaf into two unequal pieces and handing him the larger half.

The bread is warm and tasty. Gavroche doesn't realize that his piece was bigger until he's eaten the majority of it.

"Eponine" he protests "You tore it wrong again"

"No, I didn't" she says, taking another nibble of her share.

"But-"

"Shut up and eat" Eponine snaps, her voice weary.

Gavroche falls silent. Moments pass where the only sound is that of heavy rain droplets pattering against the ground. Then Eponine pulls her little brother into her arms and holds him close to her heart.

"I'm sorry" she whispers, holding him in her lap.

Gavroche smiles his enduring smile.

"S'okay, I know you didn't mean it"

His understanding and innocence makes tears frame the corners of Eponine's eyes. He cuddles into her embrace, and slips his hand into hers.

"Did you have a rough day?" he asks gently.

"Yea" she whispers, her throat clenched and voice quivering.

Gavroche hugs her tighter and presses a kiss to her cheek.

"It'll get better someday, 'Ponine" he says "It has to. When I'm big, I'll get us a cottage in the countryside, far away from Papa and 'Parnasse, and we're gonna be happy, okay?"

Eponine swallows back her tears and puts on a brave face.

"Yes Gavroche" she murmurs "That'll be lovely"

"And you'll have a husband who loves you a lot" Gavroche adds "And we'll have a dog, and a garden full of flowers. It'll be sunny 'cept every now and then it'll rain so the flowers can grow"

He yawns hugely. The safety and warmth of his sister's embrace eventually lulls him to sleep. Eponine kisses his forehead.

"Someday" she whispers "Someday"


	3. Smitten

Enjolras walks briskly through the streets. The chill of the evening air nips at his cheeks, but he doesn't notice. He is far too consumed in a book on politics. So distracted that he jostles a girl who is standing alone on a street corner, a girl who also has her head in the clouds.

"Oh, my appologies, Mam'selle" he stammers as she turns around.

"Apollo" the girl mutters upon seeing him. She says it so quietly that Enjolras isn't sure if he heard it or not.

She's thin, with a raggedy dress hugging her grimy body. Her dark brown hair is tangled and her lips are cracked. And yet, behind her waifish appearance, there's a hint of beauty in those dark, sad eyes. He's intrigued by her.

"It's alright, Monsieur" she says, observing him curiously.

"You look familiar" Enjolras observes "Have we met?"

"You probably don't know me" she says awkwardly "I, er, go to the Musain occasionally"

"Ah, a friend of Marius, aren't you?" Enjolras smiles.

She thinks for a moment, then nods hurriedly.

"May I ask your name?" Enjolras says, ever the polite gentleman.

"It's Eponine" she tells him.

Eponine. Her name has a nice sound. Enjolras suddenly finds himself repeating it softly to himself, just to hear it again.

"I'm Enjolras" he stammers quickly, remembering his manners.

"I know" she says, gazing up at the stars.

She knows him? Probably through Marius, he suspects, but then he recalls seeing her speak to Grantaire.

"Are you walking somewhere?" he asks.

"Nowhere in particular" she sighs.

"Then," he says with a hint of shyness "Would you allow me to accompany you?"

He offers his arm to her as if she is a respectable bourgeois and not penniless street rat.

"Erm, yea" she mumbles, a pink blush rising on her cheeks.

Eponine takes his arm and they amble through the cobbled streets of Paris aimlessly. Enjolras asks her questions and strikes up a casual conversation with her. He's curious about her, the way she lives, and she likes having someone new to talk to, someone who isn't drunk and cynical.

"Do your parents look after you at all?" he asks.

"Sorta. My father's got this gang, and they steal and con to live" she explains with a shrug "Sometimes he makes me help when they need me"

Enjolras is shocked by her nonchalance.

"How does he...make you?"

Eponine sighs softly and pulls her hair away from the side of her face to reveal a purple and yellow bruise on her jaw, and shows him the inside of her wrist, where the bruises are from fingers gripping her arm.

"Oh Eponine" Enjolras whispers.

They've stopped walking and now stand on the bridge over the Seine. Eponine stares out at the moonlight reflecting off the river, ignoring the look of concern Enjolras is giving her.

"Eponine, if this happens again..." Enjolras struggles for words "If he hurts you again, come find me or one of the other students, and we will take care of it, alright?"

Eponine lets go of his arm and smiles wryly at him, her brown eyes gleaming.

"I can take care of m'self, Monsieur. See you around"

Enjolras watches as she turns on her heels and scampers off towards the slums. Although he'd never admit it, he is smitten by her.


End file.
